


Molly's Secret

by Severely_Lupine



Category: Harry Potter - Rowling
Genre: DH-compliant, Family, Gen, Weasleys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-23
Updated: 2009-11-23
Packaged: 2017-10-03 14:51:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Severely_Lupine/pseuds/Severely_Lupine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On the night of Mad-Eye's death, Molly has something she needs to tell Bill.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Molly's Secret

**Author's Note:**

> Back when they were casting Deathly Hallows, I heard who they cast as Bill and immediately had to write this. Because my mind works that way.

It was late, and everyone else had left or gone to bed, but Molly couldn't sleep.  She went to the kitchen to make some tea. 

Somehow, it didn't surprise her to see Bill already sitting at the table, staring into his cup. 

"I shouldn't have left Moody," he said as she sat across from him.  "I should have recovered his body before coming back, so those bastards couldn't take him."  

Molly put her hands over his.  "Don't you dare think that.  If you'd tried, they would have killed you, too."

"Maybe," he acquiesced.  "But he deserved more than whatever they had for him."

She couldn't deny it.  Instead, she poured herself a cup from the teapot that sat on the table and took a sip.  "He was a good man."

"He was," Bill agreed, then chuckled.  "Even if he was somewhat terrifying to be in the same room with."

"He wasn't always like that," she said in a small voice.  As soon as the words were out of her mouth, she knew she was leading the conversation down a path that could only end one way.  But wasn't it time?  Someone should know.  Bill, of all people, should know.

She took a steadying breath before continuing.  "There's something I ought to tell you.  It's not easy for me to say, but . . . Alastor was . . ."

She tried.  She really tried.  But she just couldn't bring herself to say the words.  She wanted Bill to know, but she was terrified of him finding out.

She hadn't told anyone.  Not even Arthur.  And she'd flat-out lied to Alastor the one time he'd confronted her about it.

He'd been handsome once, when he was young.  His long blond hair and warm brown eyes had caught the fancy of more than one witch during their school years.  Of course, Molly had never noticed him in that way.  Her eyes had only ever been for Arthur. 

She hadn't known him well as a student—their house rivalries had been as strong then as they were now that Ginny was in school—but when she and Arthur had joined the initial phase of the original Order, before they'd quit to protect their children, she and Alastor had become casual friends.

When she'd had a terrible fight with Arthur the night before their wedding, Alastor had offered to hex her fiancé.  When she'd declined, he'd offered to let her vent to him.  Somehow, a commiseratory drink had turned into something she'd hated herself for ever since.

But then Arthur had apologized, and they'd gotten married, and she and Alastor had gone on as friendly acquaintances. 

She just thanked God that Bill had inherited her hair color.

Now her eldest son was looking at her, one eyebrow raised in curiosity. 

The signs were there, if anyone for one second thought to look for them.  His nose looked exactly as Alastor's had before it had gotten mangled in the war.  His voice had the same strong, soothing quality to it that Alastor's had held long ago, before it had grown rough from years of shouting orders and screaming through curses.  And, Molly noticed with an acute pain, Bill's face was almost as scarred and mangled, though it hadn't taken nearly as many years to get that way.

Then there was the same fierce heart—always ready to do whatever was needed, no matter the danger.

"He was what, Mum?" Bill asked patiently.

She let out a breath she hadn't realized she'd been holding and took another sip of tea. 

No.  What good what it do?  It would serve no purpose, and it wouldn't be fair—to Bill, to Arthur, or to Alastor.  She wouldn't taint his memory, or the weight of what had happened tonight.

"Nothing," she said, waving the thought away.  "Just an old woman getting reminiscent.  I should go to bed."  She got up.

Bill gave her a weak smile.  "Mum, you're hardly old."

She looked at him.  Her son.  She could never hurt him by telling him the truth, especially not now that it was too late for him to do anything about it.  As she gazed into his blue eyes—the same color her brothers' had been—she realized, it didn't matter at all the manner in which she'd been blessed with him.  Only that she had.  Finally, the guilt that had festered in a hidden corner of her heart for over two decades dissipated.  Then she felt a pang of grief for the man who'd given her such a gift.

She leaned across the table, took Bill's face in her hands, and kissed the top of his head.

"I love you," she told him, then went to join her husband in bed.


End file.
